


the broken glass in the morning light

by heavyskeleton



Series: WinterVerse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Age Regression, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavyskeleton/pseuds/heavyskeleton
Summary: Over the biting years, Frank has learnt to cope when the mercury freezes. His adult mind recedes, leaving a smaller, softer understanding in its place, tinged a hazy yellow at the jagged edges.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: WinterVerse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112636
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	the broken glass in the morning light

**Author's Note:**

> some raw, angry, pretentious, un-proof read words 
> 
> drawn from my own experiences 
> 
> hope u hate it!

Naturally, Gerard thinks he can read his boyfriend pretty well - their emotions and personalities becoming a twisted tangle of charged energy. They had learnt to mirror and oppose each other, a push and pull system operating perfectly. Most of the time.

As the weather drops bitter, the reflection glimmers dully in Frank. Every joint, muscle and bone begins to ache and bleed, swimming in increasingly colder blood. And each night, he bleeds a prayer. An ode to the sun -  _ come back, _ he pleads.  _ How could you leave me burning like this? Every pounding scuffle hangs heavy in my mind; I’m yearning for you to rise again.  _

It’s honey-sweet, truly. Frank’s love affair with the ice claws guiltily at his throat throughout the frost though nothing is more loving than the snow, more heartfelt than the crisp morning air. But it kills him. Depression may be an old friend, but has never been a welcome visitor in their home. 

Over the biting years, Frank has learnt to cope when the mercury freezes. His adult mind recedes, leaving a smaller, softer understanding in its place, tinged a hazy yellow at the jagged edges.

And Gerard expects this every year, preparing mentally for the freezing responsibility of caring for broken glass. He learns and relearns how to walk quietly, speak gently, breathe lightly. Trauma is a weeping thing; bullet holes shredding themselves apart over and over again, as reliable as the moon, as piercing as the sun. 

Dr Starmer had cited the familiar tap of depression as the cause, though the symptom remained a stranger in Frank’s stubborn mind. Age regression; two words, harmless in truth, but for Frank, they clung desperately in his foggy sights. Like icicles frozen on his eyelashes, the tip of his nose. 

Starmer never said what Frank wanted to hear, huffing out biting sentences only vaguely retained, but which hang heavy in the tepid air at every session. The room swallows them eventually - to make space for more daggers to stab and cut - the just-too-hot air melting them in a slow gasp. 

Gerard would listen to every word, hoping against hope there might be something positive or even  _ warm _ for once. He’d shiver as he listened to Frank recount his harrowing sexual assaults, freeze as he watched his love shake through mouthfuls of sharp, stinging pain. And Gerard knew before Starmer explained that the unforgiving chill of winter wasn’t truly the cause of Frank’s pain, but the scapegoat his mind had harshly allowed, a distraction from the showers in his mind. 

Frank subconsciously forced blame on the frost, the bitter and harsh winter because in his regressed mind he just couldn’t cope with the heat. The suffocating truth that every year, his hope deserted as the past tried to catch him. He became frozen as a defence mechanism, angrily boiling his trauma into mere puddles before it even saw him. 

Their routine continued. And every night, Gerard would send up his own prayer. As he held his icy lover, he’d radiate his own warmth, screaming to the sky. 

He’d beg  _ please, show us lukewarm. Show us gentle, neutral. Show us the snow resting on the grass. Show us the morning sun beaming through the clouds, twinkling on the ice. Show us the stars. Show us The Northern Lights and the planets not so far away. Show us hope and joy. Show us a bullet hole - one that’s finally scarred over.  _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> happy hogmanay!
> 
> lets go into 2021 with hope for the future, whatever she holds 
> 
> stay ugly xo


End file.
